First Impressions
by marie b
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi nearly becomes a farmer, but makes a new friend


Author: b_marie@hotmail.com  
Title: First Impressions  
Rating: PG-13 (a few sexual references, curses, etc)  
First attempt at fanfic so everyone please be nice. I borrowed/expanded a bit from the Jedi Apprentice series here, so that should help in timelines. This is the opening to a series that so far includes 3 stories, with more possibly to come. I sat through TPM and I kept thinking that what this whole saga was missing was an interesting, feisty, cute female lead, so I made one up. Please note that I claim no accuracy in details, and that I've made up a few curse words. I just cannot write "poodoo" in good faith. It's absolutely ridiculous. 

**First Impressions**  
  
Twilight on Coruscant . . . 

Not even the darkening skies bring pause to the lines of traffic that separate the air into cubes of space, the endless flow of people from one building to the next. As Danae stared out over the skyline lights flickered into being, turning the architecture into illuminated geometry. She didn't like Coruscant very much, almost dreaded it at times; somewhere, in the depths of the city planet, in bowels so long forgotten that not even the sun remembered to warm them, her mother had been abandoned to die.

_Not that it should have any meaning for me,_ she mused, one hand unconsciously rubbing her newly-shorn neck. _She died when I took my first breath, and we barely met in the passing._ But it still troubled her. She knew little of the terms of her mother's death, and her imagination occasionally ran off into dark lands on the few facts she had been told: her mother was named Tavae, and she was from a race whose planet, Provissia, had been destroyed centuries before; her father was an unnamed Human, who had already died when Yoda arrived to claim her in her infancy for the Order; and while Danae had been spared the Provissian need for an aqueous environment, the lack of a natural water source on Coruscant had sickened her mother past any point of cure.

_All I know of Provissia is what has been written on my own body._ She held her arms out in the dimming light, looking with renewed interest at the pale white skin, spreading her fingers wide. _Yoda said my mother had webbing between her fingers and toes, but I do not. And that she had gills, but I do not--_ she frowned, running her hands over stomach, where just below her ribs thick lines of flesh ran over her torso. _What did the Healers say? Sanwyn said something about residual tissues, but she didn't seem clear as to whether or not they would ever function. Though at this point, the answer is probably no. I'm practically full-grown._ For some reason, the thought saddened her. _I shouldn't complain. I did get the two hearts, and the bones. And my father, whoever he was, is probably the reason I'm standing here today._

Footsteps in the corridor made Danae jump. She turned swiftly, one hand resting on the hilt of her lightsaber. Even in the Temple, in the meditative silence, in the company of other Jedi, she never felt completely at ease. Perhaps it was the weight of Coruscant she could sense beyond the walls, bearing inside of itself her mother's ghost and the complexities of the Republic . . . But somehow that explanation never felt right to Danae; her unease was caused by a more elusive sense of the future, that somehow, in some way, her place in Coruscant would end.

This time, however, there were no ghosts advancing for her, nor any dark premonitions of the future. Rather, it was only Mirta, a tall, lanky Human, his hair equally short, his Padawan's outfit as usual immaculate. She relaxed slightly, but instead of dissipating, her unease found a focus and burst forth into irritation.

Danae had made a grave mistake with Mirta, one she knew that her Master, Jehru Maa Br'ee, would tease her about for all eternity. She had allowed him to coax her into Coruscant, into a tavern, into drinking far too many Corellian Twisters, and then into his bed. _Well, coax isn't the word, now is it? You liked him well enough, and you needed a break from everything. You were just too unfocused to see where he was going with it all._

"Danae." Mirta broke into a warm smile, extending his arms to her. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

_And I've been avoiding you._ "I've been busy," she replied. "We're due back at Malastare in two days."  
He dropped his arms when he saw that she wasn't moving. "You're going back to the Rim?" he asked, his tone distasteful.  
"Yes." _Thank the stars. I can't wait to go back._  
"Why your Master insists on spending so much time out there, I'll never know."  
"He likes it," Danae retorted. "As do I."  
"There is no order, it's filled with lowlifes--"  
"Exactly."

Mirta frowned. "Well, do you want to get some dinner?"

"I can't, I'm afraid. Maa-Br'ee wants me to go over the Malastare reports tonight."

"I saw him. He said it was fine."

Danae's eyes narrowed in suspicion. _Maa-Br'ee doesn't like him very much. Why would he--_ she scowled as comprehension dawned. _Oh, that cunning man. He knows what happened last night, and he knows how much I want to be left alone. Well, two can play at that game._

"I don't think I can. There's a lot of material to go through."

Mirta paused. "I don't know when I'll get to see you again," he said, almost plaintively. "Just a quick dinner, Danae. Please."

She sighed. "Fine. But I have to be back soon."

They began strolling down the corridor, Mirta watching her closely. "How do you feel today?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. 

"No . . . pain?"

"I'm fine."

Mirta smiled slightly. "Pretty weird night."

"Let's not talk about it, please?" 

His arm looped over her shoulders and he squeezed her awkwardly. "I'm sorry if it was sudden," he whispered. "I just like you a lot, that's all."

She threw his arm off and turned to him. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Why are you getting angry?" Mirta stared in astonishment.

"Because it was wrong, Mirta. Because I'm not very pleased with myself today." _Because I feel like a whore, like I've violated the trust of the entire Order. Because the thought of you touching me again makes me ill. Because I'm beginning to realize that you're just a jerk and I like Twisters way too much._ "And because I really need to prepare for Malastare."

"It's not wrong, Danae." Mirta tried to touch her shoulder again and flinched as she recoiled. "I can't help how I feel about you."

"Fine way to show it," she said, feeling her irritation mounting into anger.

"You weren't saying no," he retorted. "In fact, I recall quite the opposite reaction."

She took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. "Look, Mirta, please just drop it, alright? I should go prepare. I'll send you a transmission once the situation on Malastare has calmed down. How's that?" 

"I don't understand why we can't just have dinner, and talk about this." 

Danae groaned. _Why won't he just let this go? Let me think, give me some space. Is that so much to give? _"Mirta, please try to understand. I don't feel right about what happened, and I'm not sure how I feel--"

She broke off, her head whipping around. Somewhere, in the empty halls, she heard the sound of two lightsabers connecting. In an instant she forgot about Mirta and the previous evening. Instead, she began walking briskly down the corridor, her own senses opening into full awareness, searching out the source of the noise.

"Danae, wait!" Mirta began running after her. "There's no need to just walk away like that!"

But she didn't hear him. She had pinpointed the sound and started running, now sensing fear and anger. Fighting was absolutely forbidden in the Temple unless in mediated practice, and she knew that no Master would allow such an emotion-ridden fight to occur, especially at such an hour.

Finally she found the corridor and skidded to a halt, keeping herself in the shadows. Her brow furrowed as she surveyed the fight. _Initiates, both twelve. They always get cutthroat at this age. Damn the rules that created the age limit._ Her senses placed Mirta a few meters behind her, running hard, and she raised a hand to stop him. That he ignored her and instead ran right into the corridor, disturbing the two battling figures at the far end, made her want to scream in frustration.

Mirta stopped and stared at the figures. The two boys looked uneasily at him, sweat running down their faces. Shaking his head, he turned to Danae. "Is this what you were rushing for?"

"Yes." Her voice was like ice. She stepped into the dim light of one of the windows, and the boys recoiled slightly. "Both of you. Stop it now."

They glared at her, then turned to each other warily. Sensing that one was about to strike again, she reached out with the Force and slid them to far sides of the hallway. "Give it up, both of you," she repeated. "And you can tell me what's going on here while you're at it."

Mirta snorted. "Come on, Danae. They're just kids acting out."

"Shut up, Mirta," she said in the same cold tones. "Let me handle this."

Ignoring his look of disgust, she took another step forward, and frowned as the two initiates recoiled again. _Why are they--oh, whoops, forgot to take the paint off. The hair is bad enough without it._ Her shorn hair was a deep purple-black, which stood out in stark contrast to her almost dead-white skin. All of her features bore the same violet tinge, from irises to lips to the faint freckles that were scattered about on her body. To add to the jarring note, she had smeared dark blue paint on her face for her bout earlier that day. It was a practice she had begun on missions to keep the sun's glare from her eyes, but had quickly adopted for regular use when she realized that opponents found it intimidating. 

Finally one boy relaxed and turned his lightsaber off, now eyeing her curiously. She nodded approvingly at him and looked sternly at the one she still held in check. "Turn it off, young man," she said firmly. "Or I'll hold you there all night."

The other boy shook his head. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Who are you?" she retorted.

The first boy spoke in a voice filled with submission. "I'm Obi-Wan," he said, almost sadly. "That's Bruck."

Danae scowled. Once again, she thanked Maa-Br'ee and the Force and fate and any other entity that existed for not letting her be trained solely in the Temple. _They are so obedient_--! _The idea of breaking the rules is absolutely foreign to them. No wonder half of them get overwhelmed when they first start going out on missions. As if the entire galaxy conformed to the Code. _

On the heels of that thought, she realized that their grudge must be great indeed, if it would drive them to fight without permission. She looked at the two with renewed interest.

Mirta made a noise of pure exasperation. "Danae, let it go. It's not your problem."

"Shut up, Mirta," she repeated evenly. "I'm warning you, Bruck. Turn off that lightsaber now."

Before Bruck could respond, Mirta stamped his foot. "Oh, come on! You promised me dinner. It will be weeks before I see you again. And besides, they can't kill each other with those dummy blades. Just bang each other up, and it's probably the best thing for both of them."

She turned, keeping both boys firmly in check, and put one hand on her hip. "I promised you nothing. And they say you're nearing your trials." Her tone was filled with disgust. "A fine representative of this Order you'll be, with such laudable compassion."

"Like you're so great? Maa-Br'ee coddles you far too much, as far as I'm concerned. You'd think the galaxy rotated around you to hear him talk. And now you've inherited his love of the pathetic as well." The young man spat the words out, glaring at her.

_And I will not stand around arguing any more! How dare he insult Maa-Br'ee! _Her lightsaber flew into her hand and powered on, the blade glowing purple in the light. Both boys gasped, Bruck falling backwards as her focus shifted. 

"I think you should go, Mirta." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, almost soothing.

"What are you doing?" He gaped at her.

"You're making me angry, Mirta," she said gently. "I don't want to be angry with you. Now I think you should go, and let me handle this." She spun the lightsaber in her hand easily, causing it to hum slightly. "And dinner is off."

"You got that right," he muttered. But he was backpedaling.

"Run along, Mirta." She smiled at him, taking another step forward. 

"Forget about everything, Danae." He turned and walked briskly down the hallway, calling over his shoulder, "Have fun saving your pets."

She sighed and snapped the lightsaber off, turning back to Bruck. "Do you still want to mess with me?" she demanded.

The boy turned off his lightsaber and relaxed. She stretched out her hand. "Both of you. Weapons. Now."

Obi-Wan ruefully held his out. She took it and smiled at him, then took Bruck's from him as well. "Now, do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"He started it!" Bruck pointed angrily.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You know that's not true," he responded.

"_Sma_," she muttered. Both turned and stared at the curse, but she was gazing at the ceiling. "Someone save me from the arrogance of males . . . " _Are they all like this? Or is it only Jedis?_

"It was a stupid fight," Obi-Wan said, more to himself than to her.

"No, really?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you have any idea what the penalty is for fighting outside of practice bouts?"

Both shook their heads miserably.

"It's not fun. Trust me. I've had to deal with it more than once." She grinned slyly. "After me, they were forced to get creative."

"Who are you?" Bruck demanded again.

"My name is Danae. I'm Jehru Maa-Br'ee's Padawan. Are either of you going to tell me what this is about?"

Bruck shook his head, glaring at Obi-Wan. She turned to him. "What about you?"

The boy hung his head. Quietly he said, "It's an old grudge."

For some reason, his almost mournful expression made her hearts soften. _The droids in the hall already recorded the whole thing. He'll get enough flak as it is, without my being an ogre about it. And no other Master is due back here besides Qui-Gon Jinn, and it's doubtful he'll take another Padawan. Not after the last one._

"Hmm." She shook her head. "Old grudges can kill. And apparently your respective trainings haven't taught you much, or you'd know better than to fight amongst yourselves like womprats going for a scrap of food." She held up the lightsabers. "I'm keeping these. Go to your quarters. Both of you."

"Are you going to tell anyone?" Obi-Wan's eyes rose to meet hers, gazing at her earnestly.

She looked at him completely, for a moment forgetting that Bruck even existed. _Something about him--he's trying so hard, and he's afraid, trying despite the fear. He's good. I can sense that much a lightyear off._

"No," she finally said softly. Her hand touched Obi-Wan's head for a moment, then slipped down to trace a shape on his forehead. "My silence is a gift to you, little learner. As is this advice: keep your head, take your fate as it is given to you, and trust your heart. What it tells you, will be. But only if you keep your head."

She turned to Bruck, deliberatly ignoring the sudden hope that reached Obi-Wan's eyes. _Oh, Obi-Wan, I cannot save you. You have to save yourself._ "As for you," she said firmly, "if I catch you instigating anything again, you'll have the pleasure of dealing with me directly. That is my gift to you."

"But I didn't--" Bruck's jaw dropped.

"Your faces tell me what your words will not. Deceit is more outrageous than anger, and every face speaks it clearly. Don't lie to anyone again." She folded her arms. "Now is this over, or do I have to chaperone you both to your quarters?"

"You can't tell me what to do," Bruck retorted. "You're not that much older."

"No, you're right. I'm not. But I can make your life a lot more difficult. In ways you can't even imagine." She stared at him, trying to be as intimidating as possible. "Are you through or not?"

Bruck eyed her sullenly. "We're through." His eyes shifted to Obi-Wan's, becoming menacing. _For now_, he mouthed at the other boy.

Danae exhaled sharply. "What did I tell you, young man?" She slipped both lightsabers into one hand and drew her own. "If you have something to prove, perhaps you would like to do so with me?"

Bruck hesitated. "N-no. I . . .I'm sorry."

"Apologize to Obi-Wan, then."

The boy's face turned scarlet. "I, ah, I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Sure," he replied, a little too easily.

Danae pointed. "Come on. Back to your rooms, both of you."

"We'll be fine," Bruck said irritably.

"Like I trust either of you. Let's get going. At this rate I won't get dinner at all."

The two boys sighed and began trudging down the hallway, Danae following a pace behind them. Bruck kept scowling at the floor, and she stifled a chuckle at his palpable frustration.

She turned her gaze to Obi-Wan. He was rubbing at his head, and he kept glancing back at her surreptitiously. "Question, Obi-Wan?"

"Ah, well, I--" he hesitated, then suddenly spoke in a rush. "Is that your own lightsaber?"

"Yes."

"You got to make one? Already?"

"Yes." _If you only knew. Already had to rebuild the thing once--_

"How did you get that color?"

"Bought my own crystals."

"Oh." He rubbed at his head again.

"Do you need a Healer?"

"No," he shook his head, wincing slightly.

"Maybe we should let them look at you both."

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan muttered, looking at Bruck, who was studiously avoiding eye contact.

They reached the initiates' quarters. Wordlessly Bruck opened his door, glaring once more at Obi-Wan. 

"Goodnight, Bruck," Danae said, bemusement evident in her tone. _This is driving him mad. I shouldn't be enjoying this._

"Goodnight," he replied, sounding almost strangled.

She waited until the door closed and grasped Obi-Wan's arm. He looked at her defiantly. "I wasn't going to do anything."

"And I'm making sure of that. Where's your room?"

He gestured to the far end of the hall. 

She led him down until he reached the door. As he opened it, she suddenly kneeled in front of him, pulling his head to the side. 

"It's fine," he repeated, almost angry.

"Sure it is." She let her fingers run briefly over the bruise. _Not that bad. He'll have a lump, though. He really should see a Healer. As should the other one. But somehow Bruck isn't concerning me--_

"You should see a Healer," she said gently. "It'll be sore in the morning."

"It's fine," he said once more.

"Are _you_ going to be fine?" Her eyes locked with his.

He hesitated then. She could see the fear flickering in the blue depths. _He's going to be quite a looker when he gets older. I wish he wasn't so scared--there must be something I can do--_

She shook her head. "I can't help you, Obi-Wan. I can try, but I don't think it's going to do much good."

His expression grew startled. "How did you--I didn't think--"

"Remember what I said, Obi-Wan. Keep your head. Don't let Bruck get to you. Let him make mistakes, let him do what he pleases. You just keep your focus on your own training, your own path."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Yes. I will."

"I'm not a Master, you know," she chided gently. "You don't have to take me at my word, and I don't expect you to act on it. But think about it, alright? Your heart will tell you what will be. Just try to listen to it."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I--I guess so."

"Well, then." She rose, straightening her back. _And why am I dawdling here? My stomach is all but growling!_ "Goodnight, Obi-Wan."

He nodded again and watched as she turned and began walking down the hall. "Wait!"

She turned back, a smile playing around her lips. "What is it?"

"I--I don't even know your name."

"It's Danae, Obi-Wan. I told you both that."

"Just Danae?" He frowned.

"Just Danae," she replied, almost sadly. _That's right, Obi-Wan, I have no family. Piece it together like the good little student you are._

"Oh," he said softly. "Uh, well, goodnight, Danae."

She nodded and turned once more, walking more briskly, fighting the urge to look back, to turn back, that suddenly swept over her. _Dinner, Danae. Go get your dinner. And take your own advice for once. Focus on this Malastare mission and dodging Mirta. _

Neither of them saw Bruck peek out from behind his door, then start running towards the Healer's quarters.

* * * * *

Danae opened a door and smiled at the short, barrel-chested Corellian who was hunched over a table. No matter how he tried, Jehru Maa-Br'ee could never come across as anything but a cheerful father figure. The permanent rosiness of his cheeks and the gleam of his balding head made him look far too gentle, an appearance that Danae had learned early not to overestimate. Maa-Br'ee was quick to laugh, and difficult to insult; but when he was moved to fight, he was practically unstoppable.

He glanced up when she entered. "I thought you were going to dinner with Mirta," he said lightly.

She chucked the two practice lightsabers on his sleeping couch. "I got delayed, so I just grabbed a snack," she said listlessly. "Not that you'll mind. I know how you feel about Mirta." _Feelings you have displayed all too clearly, time and time again. Like that time you threw him out of my room, for one._

"Saw for yourself, did you?"

"Yes, yes, yes . . . " she waved her hand. "Please, Maa-Br'ee. No 'I told you so's, alright? And don't think that I don't know what you were up to."

"I didn't do anything!" The man's round face broke into a rather devilish smile. "Though I must admit that I had some small reservations about your choice of mate."

_Mate? Never! The thought of him touching me again-- _

"Don't be disgusting," she retorted. "It's not like that." 

"Of course not," Maa-Br'ee said smoothly. He focused once more on the maps before him, his stout body flexing uncomfortably in the chair. "So what troubles you, then? Is it the Council?" he asked over his shoulder.

She flopped down on the couch, unbuckling her boots. _Oops. Forgot about that. Another thing to focus on avoiding._ "Don't remind me. Is anyone fighting tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"I came across two boys. They both looked about twelve. Fighting each other in a hallway."

He stopped studying the maps and looked at her sternly. "I hope you stopped it."

"Of course I did!" She rolled on her side, her eyes wide.

"As opposed to giving them tips on how to wiggle out of punishment?"

"Isn't that the same thing?" she replied easily, her face a mask of pure innocence.

"Brat." He reached over and tousled her hair. "So? Those are their lightsabers, I presume?"

"Yes. I'll return them tomorrow."

"Are you going to tell anyone how you got them?"

"No." She shook her head. "I gave one of them my word."

"But not the other."

Her face darkened slightly. "He didn't deserve it."

"So hasty to judge?"

"He lied to me," she said simply. "I give nothing to liars."

"You should be a little more generous, Danae." Maa-Br'ee leaned back, thinking. "Qui-Gon is here. Probably why they were so enthralled with the idea of beating each other."

"Wasn't he Xanatos' Master?"

"Yes," Maa-Br'ee said, a little sadly. "I'm surprised you remember."

"Xanatos gave me quite a spanking at the time. How could I forget?" _He was so critical, and so sure of himself . . . trying to show me what I did wrong in that practice when I knew full well I had done nothing, and then boasting about beating me . . ._

"You were quite young, though. And we have not seen Qui-Gon since then." Maa-Br'ee shrugged. "They fought for nothing, those two."

"So Qui-Gon still won't take one on?"

"His heart is broken, Danae. He had more faith in Xanatos than anyone else."

"As he should, considering Xanatos was his Padawan learner."

"He let his heart blind him," Maa-Br'ee said gently. "And paid for it dearly. It is not pleasant to lose one that you think of as your own flesh and blood."

Danae nodded. "He should take Obi-Wan, though. The one I gave my word to."

"I sincerely doubt it." Maa-Br'ee paused. "Though I've heard Yoda mention Obi-Wan, once or twice. Yoda thinks very highly of him. I'm surprised he wasn't chosen earlier."

"He should have been. He's very strong. Qui-Gon could find quite a redemption in him."

"Padawans are not about redemption, Danae," Maa-Br'ee said sternly.

She rolled onto her stomach, her eyes meeting his. "No, on the surface they are not. But every relationship becomes laden with the trials of the heart, Maa-Br'ee. And the past as well."

He chuckled. "Perhaps you should tell that to Qui-Gon." Realizing his mistake, he held up his hand. "But of course you will not. I absolutely forbid it, Danae. This is not your fight. If the boy is to be trained, it will happen. He must face his fate alone. And you should get some rest."

She frowned as she rose, picking up her boots. _Oh, how I hate those words. Forbid it. Forbidden. Pah._

"Danae."

The sudden urgency in Maa-Br'ee's voice stopped her cold. She hung her head, knowing full well what was coming.

"I saw Mace Windu today. He still would like to hear whatever you may know regarding Aurra Sing."

"I know nothing," Danae said quietly. 

"She has turned, Danae." Maa-Br'ee smiled encouragingly at her. "It has nothing to do with you, not anymore. She has no love for this Order now."

"She never did," Danae replied shortly. Closing her eyes for a moment, she opened them and stared directly at Maa-Br'ee. "I know what she is. But she was a friend, Maa-Br'ee. For whatever it was worth at the time, I cannot speak about her now." _And I don't know if I ever can--if that fortune teller was right, and she seemed so right, then to say anything would be suicide._

"I think you're failing to see the gravity of this situation. I know you thought of her as an older sister, someone to talk to--"

"Maa-Br'ee. Master." Danae looked at him beseechingly. "Please don't ask this of me. I need you to trust me on this. Right now my instincts tell me to be quiet. I can't explain it. But I think I need to follow that sense, for better or worse."

Maa-Br'ee frowned. "Let's just hope it's not for worse, then." He turned abruptly and began studying the maps once more.

Danae sighed and padded out into the hallway, suddenly feeling very much alone.

__

* * * * * 

She was kept busy most of the following day. In the morning, Maa-Br'ee made her meditate, then she was called upon to help supervise a young group of initiates with the training droids, children of about nine who leapt nimbly around the mild sting of the droids' fire. But Danae's mind was elsewhere. Half of her was busy going over the mission to Malastare they were due to undertake the following morning. The other was occupied with the fate of a twelve-year-old boy.

She had cornered one of the Docents after meditation. The boy's full name, she discovered, was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He and Bruck were two of the ablest initiates in the Temple, and the oldest. The Docent told her of their long-term animosity, which had only made Danae more interested.

Finally, after packing the gaggle of starry-eyed initiates back into the waiting hands of the Docents, she managed to slip down the corridor towards the main hall. _Was I ever so young?_ she wondered. They had been so eager for her stories, to see her fight the droids. When she had finally acquiesed to batting a few blasts around they had all but swooned with awe.

She felt a slight pang of regret that she hadn't been raised as they had. They were all close, and she would never know that companionship, that sense of community. She knew she was lucky; Maa-Br'ee had chosen her at birth, and she had seen more with him than some of the initiates ever would. He had always let her think for herself, try and make decisions for herself, and she felt queasy witnessing the mute obedience of the initiates, the sheer ignorance of any other way beside that of the Temple. She had also been spared the fear she had felt in the two boys, the dreadful reckoning that came when it was time to be chosen, or face less valued fates such as the Agri-Corps or Healing. Her own destiny had never been in question. She would be a Jedi Knight.

Danae knew, as well, the rumors that surrounded her. She knew that many of the Masters disapproved of Maa-Br'ee's methods, and pointed to her own peculiar fighting style as one reason that she should be restricted to the Temple. _And Aurra's just more fuel to their fire, though I honestly don't know why, I only saw her two or three times._ Despite that, she knew that others spoke of her as already being a great Jedi, with many talents and a promising future. She didn't like either school of thought very much. _It's what's wrong with this whole Order. So much talk, as if your path was predetermined. As if it was impossible to have a choice. There's always a choice._

Even for Aurra. If she has turned-- Danae shook her head. The thought of the older girl brought on a strange tremor. _She was always difficult, far more so than I've ever been. But she could still be nice. Or at least she was to me. It's so hard to think of her as turned. But it only gives more credence to that fortune teller we met. _

She shook her head again, feeling more resolved. _Aurra's not my problem. And I don't know anything of practical worth to tell the Council. Out of my hands, and hopefully the last I ever have to hear about this._

Watching closely to see if any Docents were about that might report her, she slipped down the steps of the main hall and settled onto a bench. Adolescent initiates ranged about the center ring, seated in the packed sand that formed the floor of the arena. Danae knew the ring well. She had fought there a few times already, fostering the rumors that were spreading. But now she was just a spectator.

Her eyes scanned the crowd intently. Finally she spotted him. _Qui-Gon Jinn, and there's Yoda beside him. A good sign_. She had only met him once, in her strange encounter with Xanatos. The name still brought a shudder to her small form. _He was awful. He seemed so handsome, so strong in the Force . . . until he opened his mouth._ She had been only eleven when she met him, a young man all but ready to pass his trials. She had fought him, in a practice bout, and endured the most severe failure of her life. An outcome which he had boasted about for the rest of the day. And then, in the hallway, he had tried to touch her.

Danae shuddered again. _Pervert. I was barely a girl, much less a woman._ The encounter hadn't frightened her as much as it had confused her, that one spoken of so highly could be capable of such a base gesture. By that time, she had started accompanying Maa-Br'ee on his missions, and she had already learned much about the ways of adults. So she had simply left, running away quickly; she didn't tell anyone, and indeed had all but forgotten it by the next day. But she had secretly been relieved when she heard of his deception, even as she was told of how it had cost his Master.

Danae got up and worked her way down the lower benches, ignoring the surprised glances of the older Jedi watching the bouts. Finally she dropped into a seat near Qui-Gon Jinn, smiled briefly at him, and focused her attention on the ring.

She could make out Obi-Wan's slender form, folded into a meditative position on the edge of the half-circle of students, watching the two battling initiates carefully. Studying him, she could sense his nervousness. _Oh no,_ she thought worriedly. _Don't lose it. Please._

A voice made her turn. "Danae. Padawan Learner of Jehru Maa-Br'ee."

She smiled at the wizened form that was watching her intently. "Master Yoda," she responded quietly, bowing.

"You have such time, to watch, yes?"

"I have a spare moment. I thought I would spend it here."

"Hmph." Yoda sat back.

"I remember you, from when you were younger," Qui-Gon said gently. "Your Master speaks well of you."

"I am pleased to hear it, especially from one he greatly respects."

"You are due at Malastare tomorrow, aren't you?"

She nodded. 

"A rather dangerous situation there."

Danae shrugged. "It's always bad there. I've grown used to it."

Yoda was still watching her. "Not the place, perhaps, for one so young?"

"I do not question my Master's judgement," Danae responded coolly. She leaned forward, watching a young Calamarian of about eleven block a swipe from her opponent. "The girl is good."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said reflectively. "Very steady in her actions, not quick to move. A good sign."

"Saw you here, I did," Yoda broke in. "Last year. Fight like an outlaw, you do."

Danae laughed. "Did it displease, Master?"

"Outlaw? Yes. But Force you sensed. Open, you became." Yoda smiled slightly. "Then, like a Jedi, you fought. Pleasing to see."

"Different situations call for different strategies."

"Too quick, you are. Advantage, not always clear. Be more open."

Danae nodded gracefully. "I will remember that, Master. I thank you."

"Where is Jehru?" Qui-Gon folded his arms, frowning as the initiate cut too quickly and tripped. "He is in the Temple, correct?"

"Yes. He's reviewing the Malastare reports."

"Shouldn't you be doing the same?"

"So quick to be rid of me?" Danae's eyebrow arched. "I saw them this morning. I will review them again tonight."

"You should rest tonight." Qui-Gon deliberately ignored her first comment.

"I prefer to sleep on the flight there." She shot him a quick, almost pleading glance. "I want to see one of the initiates. Once he is finished, I will leave."

"Which one?"

"That one." She gestured slightly. "His name is Obi-Wan, I believe."

Yoda harrumphed. "Intrigued?"

"In a way. He is very skilled."

"To be seen, that remains. Next he is."

As they watched, the two initiates finally broke apart and bowed. Obi-Wan rose and stepped into the ring. Another boy rose and did the same.

_Bruck_. Danae shook her head. "Isn't there another he can fight?"

Yoda looked at her sternly. "Pick and choose our battles, we cannot. Obi-Wan has much to learn here."

Danae hesitated, then grinned. "You like him too."

"Good he is. Strong. Impatient, like you. But good." Yoda leaned back, watching with half-lidded eyes.

The battle began. Both boys dodged and circled each other, striking and breaking apart. Danae felt Qui-Gon lean forward next to her, and smiled again. _Oh, he's interested, no matter how he may act._

Then she bit her lip. Obi-Wan suddenly became aggressive, lashing out at Bruck. Inwardly she shook her head. _Don't show off now. Keep your head. _But he didn't let up, sensing that Bruck was yielding.

"_Sma_," she hissed.

Qui-Gon shot her a reproachful look.

"He's nervous," she said irritably. 

"That should not affect matters."

"They're only twelve, Master Qui-Gon."

"That excuses nothing."

She shook her head. "Do you forget so much?" she murmured.

Qui-Gon bit back his response and returned his gaze to the arena. The fight was over quickly. Bruck, dazed, was helped to the sides. Obi-Wan bowed and sat back down.

Qui-Gon sat back. "Such anger," he said, visibly annoyed. 

Danae frowned. "He's doing it for your benefit, Master Qui-Gon."

"You know him so well then?" The Jedi scowled at her.

"He is old, Master Qui-Gon. And afraid. You know how it is."

"I also know where anger and fear lead to."

Danae felt her own temper rising. Yoda was watching her closely, she could sense it. And Qui-Gon . . . _he's made up his mind. Baatu. Will the man never get over his past?_

She began to speak, but checked herself. _Anything I say now will just damage his cause more. _Abruptly, she rose and began striding up the stairs, ignoring Qui-Gon's startled look.

Qui-Gon watched her go for a moment, then turned to Yoda. "She is angry."

Yoda shrugged. "Thankful you should be, that she did not speak her mind. Quick to argue, that one is."

"Jehru thinks she's one of the strongest the Order has ever found."

"Strong, she is." Yoda closed his eyes a moment. "And clouded her future. Shadowed, like her Master."

Qui-Gon began to speak again, then stopped.

"Think of your past, you do. But Danae is not him." Yoda opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon deeply. "In her, compassion is stronger. Choose well, she will, when time it comes."

"You think highly of her as well."

"Found her I did. Gave her to Maa-Br'ee. I fear nothing from her. Dance, some do, on the fringes of the Force. Know they do the light and dark, and choose they do when the time comes. Stronger they are, for their knowledge. Stronger she will be, for all her defiance now."

Qui-Gon sighed and returned his focus to the ring. 

* * * * *

In the hallway, Obi-Wan suddenly stopped, hugging himself. _It's all over,_ he realized, the weight of the day's events striking him in the chest, making him feel cold. _I'm not going to be a Jedi._

All of the memories of the past few days, of fighting Bruck, of his friends' tearful goodbyes, hit him in waves. He fell to the floor and curled up in a corner, crying fiercely. _It's not fair, it's not fair, I can be a Jedi! Why won't they let me be one? Why wouldn't Qui-Gon take me as his Padawan?_

Somewhere, deep inside him, a cold center of fear began to harden. _I'll never be anything but a failure. No one wants me. No one has ever wanted me._

He sat, his knees hugged tightly to his chest, openly sobbing. In the pre-dawn hours, no one heard, but that didn't suprise him. At that moment, he was convinced the entire Order could hear him and would cheerfully ignore him.

Footsteps in the hallway made him jump. He heard a female voice cursing to herself in a mixture of languages. He recognized Basic, and what sounded like Huttese; the rest of the words were foreign to him.

"_Sma,_" the voice muttered. "Filthy stinking bantha foddermission, _baatu_ for information, and I can't even sleep because the _micocta _droid dies on me and there's no _pasde _excuse for a damn sleeping couch on that--"

The voice broke off directly over him. He sensed eyes upon him, and a presence bending over. He barely raised his full eyes, still sobbing helplessly. He saw a Jedi tunic and belt before him, strapped around a narrow waist. The neck that extended up was white, tinged with a peach tone, and dotted with a light scattering of violet freckles.

"Are you alright?" The voice was gentle, soothing. He felt a hand touch his head, and raised his eyes completely.

It was the girl from yesterday. _Danae_. She smiled down at him, her eyes sympathetic. Her face was scrubbed clean, showing her youth, as opposed to the blue paint which had made her look positively ferocious.

"Remember me?"

He nodded miserably, still unable to stop the tears that welled up.

"What's wrong? It can't be the fight. You fought really well."

"Th-they wo-won't let me--" he broke off, unable to go on. He pressed his face down onto his knees and began rocking miserably, his cries almost keening.

She hesitated, then sat down across from him, crossing her legs. Gently her hand slid under his chin, raising his eyes to meet hers again. 

"What's wrong?" Her voice grew commanding. "Tell me."

"I--I'm almost thirteen." He whispered the words.

She nodded encouragingly. "When do you turn?"

"F-f-four weeks."

"Are they sending you away?"

"T-to the Ag-Agri--"

"Agri-Corps." She finished the sentence for him. Calmly she wiped at his face, her touch almost affectionate. "And you obviously don't want to help farmers for the rest of your life."

He shook his head miserably.

"What do you feel?"

"I want to be a Jedi," he said. _At least that came out right._

She shook her head. "What do you _feel_? What is your path?"

"A Jedi," he repeated stubbornly. 

"Well." She studied his face, lost in thought. "Did you see Qui-Gon?"

"Yes." He shook his head, crying again. "B-But he did-didn't want me--"

"He doesn't ever want anyone, Obi-Wan. Don't blame yourself."

"But h-he's my last chance!" He spat the words out, choking.

"Shh." She touched his head again. "It will turn out fine, you'll see."

"N-no it wo-won't--" _They're sending me away! It's all over!_

"It will be fine." She smiled at him. "If you feel that you should become a Jedi, you will."

"I--they're s-sending me away. N-no one wants m-me--"

"Well. We'll have to make it so, then. There has to be a way."

He just shook his head, miserable. _She's older than me, but she's still just a Padawan. No one will listen to her. _

"Don't shake your head at me." The rebuke was gentle, almost amused. "Try to listen instead. And stop doubting yourself. I saw you fight today. You have great skill, Obi-Wan. You fought well. And everyone knows what happened last night."

He stared at her. "You told?" he demanded.

She chuckled. "I never break my word, Obi-Wan. You forgot to check for droids in that hallway."

His eyes brightened, suddenly feeling hopeful. _So they saw! They know it wasn't my fault! _And, on the heels of that thought, came another: _She saw the droid in the hallway, but didn't say anything. She kept her silence to me, knowing that if it was asked, the droid would tell the truth._

"You let yourself get angry," she continued gently. "But don't make yourself upset over it. Everyone gets angry. That's why we get trained. If we didn't feel anger, we wouldn't need to be Padawans, now would we?"

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. _Everyone does get angry. Even Master Yoda, although it almost never happens._

"So chin up. I'll see what I can do. And in the meantime, be good. Go to the Agri-Corps like a good Jedi should." She raised her hand as she saw the tears spilling over his cheeks again. "Things have a way of working out, Obi-Wan. Often in ways we would never forsee." Danae closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, smiling. "Somehow I don't think your fate is that of the Agri-Corps. But it's not to be decided here, either. So just hang on, and remember your training. You'll be fine, and this will all work out."

She rose and stretched. "And, unfortunately, I have some blankets to find. But we'll meet again, Padawan." With a jaunty grin, she began jogging down the hallway. As she left, she called over her shoulder, "and I'll see what I can do for you!"

He rose unsteadily, wiping at his eyes. The whole incident felt almost like a dream. _I still don't know her full name, or who her Master is, _he realized. _I probably won't ever see her again, and I don't even know who she is._ But somehow the last thought didn't feel right to him.

He began walking in the other direction, feeling a little more resolved.

_Things have a way of working out. Often in ways we would never forsee._

* * * * *

As she jogged down the hall, Danae's mind had split in two yet again. One half was still cursing the mission freely, though she refrained from speaking any more aloud. _If any of the Masters hear me, they'll say something to Maa-Br'ee, and then Maa-Br'ee will get annoyed with me. And I don't want to spend any more days dealing with Jawas or washing dishes._

The other half of her mind was turning over her recent conversation. In her opinion, Obi Wan was easily qualified to be a Padawan. He had been a little headstrong, and visibly angry with Bruck, but those were reactions she could respect, as they were far too often her own.

_Screw this Malastare mission. I want to see what happens to him._

She suddenly turned and began walking more slowly, eyeing the doors on either side of the hall. The sleeping quarters were dark, and she sensed nothing but quiet, until she came almost to the end. _Aha. He's still up. Do I dare--_

Carefully, she weighed the situation. On one hand, she needed to find some blankets, finish packing, and get herself onto the ship to Malastare. That was her mission, and she should fulfill it. On the other hand, she could try to intervene in the boy's fate. That was not her mission, and Qui-Gon would be angry with her, and if the rest of the Council found out, they would be furious.

_And if I don't get those blankets, Maa-Br'ee will be angry. And if he finds out I spoke to Qui-Gon--he already told me not to interfere in this--_

Unbidden, her mind brought up images of Xanatos. _That bastard. Always so cocky, and that time when he grabbed me outside the main hall--_she shook her head in irritation. Her relief at finding out that Xanatos had been banished had been tempered by the enormity of the older student's deception. _He even had me fooled. And Maa-Br'ee said he broke Qui-Gon's heart._

Danae ground her teeth in frustration. It wasn't fair. She could still hear Obi-Wan's crying in her mind, feel the tears on his cheeks as she had tried, awkwardly, to comfort him. She felt almost personally stricken at Qui-Gon's refusal, as if it had happened to her.

Quickly, before she could think about it, she rapped on Qui-Gon's door. A deep male voice bid her enter.

She slipped inside of the room, her eyes shifting to adjust to the yellow light within. The Jedi Master sat on his sleeping couch, brooding, but his eyes met hers with a friendly look.

"Danae."

She bowed slightly.

"What can I do for you?"

Inadvertently, she remembered the word play of a pilot she had met on the Rim a year ago. _Hey, pretty, what can I do you for?_ Quickly she bit back her laughter. Qui-Gon was old enough to be her father.

"With your permission, Master Qui-Gon." She fell to her knees.

"Speak," he commanded gently.

"I come to speak on behalf of Obi-Wan--"

"Kenobi," Qui-Gon finished. His eyes grew alert, and a little wary. "This matter does not concern you, Padawan."

"With all due respect, I think it does." Her eyes met his, challenging.

"How so?"

"I am a member of this Order. I seek to become a Jedi Knight. I do not like to see this Order cast off one of its better possibilities."

He frowned. "If Obi-Wan's fate is to work with the Agri-Corps, then so it must be. We do not choose our destinies. Your Master must have taught you better than that."

She bit back her irritation. "My Master does not even know I am here, Master Qui-Gon. I must ask that you refrain from questioning his ability."

"I do not question his ability," Qui-Gon returned smoothly. "I question your goal here. There is nothing I can do for the boy. He has reached age, and he still cannot control his anger."

She stood up, unable to take any more. "He is not Xanatos, and he should not be punished because he is better than Xanatos," she hissed.

Qui-Gon's face became an empty mask. "You should go now, Danae."

"You know I am right," she pressed.

"You presume to know my mind?" His eyebrows shot up. "Do you wish to make me question your Master to the Council?"

"I wish for you to take a broken-hearted boy and let him fulfill his destiny," she replied evenly.

"And if his destiny is to be part of the Agri-Corps?"

"That's not his destiny, and we all know it."

"You know so much," Qui-Gon said shortly. Despite himself, he was intrigued. The young girl had a commanding presence.

"I know very little," Danae replied demurely. "But I sense that his future is not in a field counting spore samples."

Qui-Gon winced. He had been trying very hard not to think of the drudgery that awaited Obi-Wan. "I cannot help him. If he is as good as you say, another would have chosen him."

"Perhaps he is not meant to be trained by another."

"Perhaps he is not meant to be trained at all," Qui-Gon retorted.

"Master, please." She spoke more urgently. "Just let me speak."

He sighed and leaned back. "I do this out of respect for your Master, Danae."

"Very well. The boy is strong. Yes, he is angry, and stubborn, but I know of no twelve year-old who is not." She bowed. "Or fifteen-year-olds, for that matter."

Qui-Gon smiled slightly.

"However, he fought well today. His sense of the Force is highly developed for one so young. I asked my Master about his past, and he told me that Obi-Wan was taken as an infant. He is from a modest background, so there is little chance--" she hesitated. She had been about to say, _that he will turn out as Xanatos did. "_Little chance that he will change his mind. And I spoke with him, just now."

At that, Qui-Gon's eyes grew slightly more focused. Encouraged, she pushed on. "He is miserable, Master Qui-Gon. And he is miserable because he truly believes that the fate he senses for himself does not lie in a field herding bantha, or watching crops grow." _That got him. At least he realizes how dreadful the Agri-Corps can be._ "I sense that he has tried to accept this destiny, but he cannot bring himself to, because his own understanding dictates that this is not his path to take."

"Whatever he may think, this is the path he has been given," Qui-Gon replied evenly. "And a good Jedi knows to accept his path, no matter how boring it may seem to be."

"But if he is a good Jedi, then why not train him?" she responded quickly.

Qui-Gon frowned. "Because I do not think I would be a good Master," he said softly.

"Xanatos was not your fault."

"I do not need a Padawan to dictate my conscience."

"Perhaps, however, you need a Padawan to remind you of the truth."

"The truth, if you see it as such, should be handled with better care," he shot back, growing irritated.

"The truth, and it is the truth, cannot be turned from," she returned coldly.

"I wonder where you got this presumption from." He felt, suddenly, that he very much wanted the subject to change.

"You know my Master, and you know him because you two are alike." Danae looked at him intently. "He said that if he ever was unable to finish my training, he would request that you take me on. And it is from that knowledge, and the valued opinion of my Master, that I stand here." She raised her chin slightly. "I would not have done this if you were another."

Qui-Gon looked at her uneasily. "It is high time this conversation--"

"What I mean to say, Master Qui-Gon," she spoke before he could finish, "is that Maa Br'ee respects you. And I trust that respect. He does not give it lightly, or to many. Even in the Order. I sense that we are all alike. You, Maa-Br'ee, myself, and Obi-Wan. And I do not ignore my senses."

"Even if they require that you pressure a Jedi Knight into changing his weighted decision?"

"Only when that decision is wrong." She folded her arms, her eyes sparkling with defiance.

"I cannot take him, Danae," he said softly. The entreaty in his tone startled her. "You must try to understand. I am not ready to take another Padawan now, and to take him on would do us both a disservice."

"He might teach you a few things, Master Qui-Gon," she replied in the same softness of tone.

"And it might very well work out. But I cannot take the risk. It is too great, for both the boy and myself."

"No," she said firmly.

He looked at her in surprise.

"The only risk here, Qui-Gon, is to yourself," she said sternly. "To your own mindset. You cannot let go of Xanatos, and you would rather berate yourself endlessly--"

"Enough!" he roared.

"Berate yourself endlessly at the expense of Obi-Wan and others, others who could use your wisdom later--"

"This is over!"

"--and I wonder indeed that you dare show your face as a representative of this Order when you cannot even let go of a miserable slug of a human being whose actions were based solely on his own malicious greed!" she ended furiously. "How dare you!"

Qui-Gon gaped at her, completely shocked.

"How dare you! How dare you make everyone pay for Xanatos! I have seen you sit in these halls year after year, and I have watched the miserable faces of students when you deny them your strength and your wisdom! How dare you sit here and tell me it's for his own good! The only good it's for is your own!" Her eyes flashed at him coldly.

He leapt to his feet. She tensed, readying herself. _Whoops. Pushed too much, that time._

But just as he opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly relaxed, watching her closely. Qui-Gon knew a little bit of Danae's history, from his conversations with Maa-Br'ee. Knew that her training was somewhat unique; knew too the tendencies of her Master, to act without thought to conduct or Code. He realized that she was right, in more ways than one. She was strong in the living Force, as he was. She had correctly assessed the reasons for his refusal of Obi-Wan. If she was right about the harm he was causing as well . . . 

"This is none of your business," he said calmly. "And this meeting is at an end."

She bit her lip. "It is not wrong to care for your Padwan," she rushed on. "Xanatos was not your fault. You must see Obi-Wan's potential. Please, Master. I sense he is needed for the future." Her eyes met his, pleading.

"Good night, Danae. And safe journey to Malastare." He turned his back on her.

She sighed and opened the door. As she stepped in the hallway, she murmured, "Fate has a way of surprising us all, Master Qui-Gon. I hope you will accept the future, when it does speak to you."

He turned, startled, but she was gone.

Settling back on his couch, Qui-Gon began to brood again.


End file.
